


Take Notes

by SandraSempra



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Cambridge, Character Development, Developing Friendships, Living Together, M/M, Mind Games, Romantic Friendship, Strangers to Lovers, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic, flatmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-01-06 16:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraSempra/pseuds/SandraSempra
Summary: Friends and flatmates with conflicting personalities help one another discover what is needed to succeed in the dating scene.





	1. Get Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Habababa - this is for you, love.
> 
> A special thank you to JEPierre for the read through. You complete me.
> 
> As always - all characters are owned by JK Rowling.
> 
> Each chapter is from another's point of view, so any slanders made are merely from that character's view point. Opinions can often change over time. ;)

 

Draco surrounded himself in research, the constant fear of failure prominently tugging at his brain as he memorized another section of his anatomy notes. The floor in his flat was littered with scattered pages and empty to-go cups of coffee. Every surface held a textbook or folder, walls plastered with charts and graphs as he buried his face behind his laptop to type up  _ another _ theory summary.

He was prepared to answer any question his professors deemed fit to throw his way.  What he  _ wasn’t _ prepared for, however, was the air that surged through the room as the front door swung open, blowing his organized mess into a wrecked mass of chaos across the floor.

“Damnit, Weasley!”

The rowdy ginger, with a football tucked loosely under his left arm, stood in the doorframe with a shocked expression on his face. His eyes were wide, peering under strands of sweaty red hair.

“Close. The.  _ DOOR _ !” Draco was scrambling to scoop the wind tattered folio and stacked them back into their wonted piles, glaring up at Ron with every swipe of his hand, cursing his name under his breath.    
  
Finally, Ron closed the door behind him and took large careful steps through the obstacle course that was their living room.

“What’s all this, then?”

A growl escaped Draco as he peered up at his flatmate, causing the redheaded jock to pull his lips into a sideways smile, his blue eyes beaming down at the platinum blond.

“You’re so  _ adorable _ when you’re mad.  Have I ever told you?”  Ron was dancing on very thin ice, he knew, but couldn’t resist riling the incorrigible boy. He plopped hard on the chair in the corner, the only thing in the room  _ not _ covered in papers.

Draco rolled his eyes, scanning the pages as he set the last of them down.

“Don’t sit on the furniture if you’re sweaty and  _ gross _ , Weasel. It’s on our list of house rules.  _ Lest _ you’ve forgotten...  _ Again _ .” Draco was talking to himself more than to Ron, exaggerating his eyebrows as he emphasized every other word, knowing damn well the stubborn git wasn’t listening.

Ron smirked in triumph, laughing at how easy it was to get under his flatmate’s skin. He stretched out, arms reaching high above his head as he kicked off his cleats, grass and dirt breaking off onto the perfectly placed rug on the floor. If Ron hadn’t been eying Draco, he would have missed the twitch under the blond’s left eye.

“Oh you have  _ got _ to be kidding me.” Draco stood, eyes flaring as he threw a pen at Ron’s head.  “Are you seriously  _ trying _ to piss me off right now?”

Ron lowers his arms to rest his palms casually behind his head, his smirk prominent across his face. “Yes.”

If glares could kill and stop another from breathing, Ron would be a pile of ashes on the floor. Draco’s eyes flared with irritation. His flatmate was always on his case, never allowing for a simple exchange in conversation without purposefully pushing Draco’s blood to a boiling point. He lived up to his name,  _ Weasel _ , with his bold demeanor and annoying eating habits.

“Oh come off it,  _ roomie _ , you’ve probably been studying too long already anyway.” He rose, removing his sweat soaked tee, flinging it off over his head as he shook his head free.  Draco, much to his own horror, felt his eyes following Ron’s movements.  Rage slowly dissolved from his mind, replaced with something  _ else _ .  He swallowed the lump in his throat he didn’t realize had formed as he blinked his focus away, gazing back to his heap of notes in front of him.

“Yes, well.   _ Some _ of us actually take pride in our work,  _ Weasley _ ,” Draco closed his laptop and began loading his paper mess into his binders and books, marking pages accordingly.  When Ron was uncharacteristically silent behind him he craned his head over his shoulder, staring blankly at the empty space in the room where Ron once stood, his eyes narrowing.

“I happen to take plenty pride in what I do, thanks!” Ron said, popping his head around the corner on the opposite wall leading to the bedrooms. Draco jolted. “It just doesn’t involve staring at a laptop all day.”

“Ah that’s right.  Mr.  _ MVP _ is too good to study, is that it?” Draco strode past a half naked Ron, now stripped down to his boxers as Draco carried his coursework to his room, not bothering to close the door.

“Why do it myself when I have you to help me, mate?” Ron’s brows wiggled as he followed Draco to his room.  

Sighing with his back to Ron, Draco puffed a laugh at the nonsense that was Ronald Weasley.

“Please. What makes you think that  _ I, _ would help you?”

Grinning, Ron crossed his arms over his hard chest. “You don’t have to. You recite your notes in your sleep.”

“I still don’t see how that helps  _ you _ .  We aren’t in any of the same courses.” Draco scoffed, mimicking Ron’s movements as he tucked his hands under his arms.

“Semantics, mate!”

Draco brought a hand to pinch his nose.  “That doesn’t even-” he let out a breath, dropping his arm. “You know what?  _ Forget _ it.” It was a battle he knew he couldn’t win.  Ron wasn’t exactly the  _ smartest _ man to say the least.

“If you’re giving up that easily, then I  _ know _ you’ve been studying too hard.  When’s the last time you’ve gone out?”

Out? Draco doesn’t go  _ out _ . His free time was devoted to staying the course that was his education so he could one day take up his family’s practice.  The Malfoy’s were renowned doctors, and Draco would be the best of his lineage, if  _ he  _ had anything to say about it.

“I go out.”

“The library and Cambridge Coffee doesn’t count,  _ Dr. Malfoy _ .”  Ron’s voice was that of mocking, and Draco felt his lip curl into a silent snarl. “It’s settled. You’ll head out with us tonight.”

“Wait, what?  Ron, I don’t thi-”

“No need to thank me. Just buy me a drink,” Ron was grinning, clearly pleased with himself, as he exited Draco’s room and headed to the bathroom to shower, pointing with an outstretched arm as he retreated out of the door frame.  

Draco slouched, plopping hard on his bed over a bent leg tucked beneath him, his other hung loosely over the mattress edge.  _ What.. just happened. _  It was known to both Draco’s friends, as well as Ron’s, the two of them were nothing more than flatmates, assigned at random by the university. The invitation caught Draco albeit off guard, so much so, he was rendered speechless in response to it.  Draco is rarely ever speechless.  In fact, he’s been known to out instruct professors straight off their podiums during class, not knowing when to quit, as he would casually place a hand in his pocket, directing people with his gesturing hand on his right.  Some would classify his ability for conversation a gift, but to Draco, it posed to be a social nightmare.

Aside from  _ showing up _ his professors, he often fell short with the dating scene, finding he had the words to say to keep conversation flowing, lacked in regarding, or acknowledging for that matter, the importance of  _ body  _ language.  He wasn’t a stranger to the ways of another’s body by any means, but he would lose himself in the palaver. Most would give up their advances by the time Draco let on, and the night would be a bust.  

Thrusting his weight behind him, he collapsed with his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating whether tonight would end the same as it always had. He hadn’t been with another man since his high school graduation, and the lack of another’s touch was turning him almost to the point of bitterness. But, he would often remind himself that companionship was a luxury rather than necessity, as school was his main goal.  To  _ prove _ to his father that his sexual orientation would not hinder his reputation in the medical field.

“Dude!  You’re worse than a bloody girl on her prom night! How the hell are you not ready yet?  The guys will be here in ten,” Ron’s voice knocked Draco from his thoughts, lifting his head to meet the ginger boy’s bright blue eyes at his door. “Seriously, mate, you should change into something less,” Ron paused, gesturing with his hand, “ _ you _ .”

Draco gripped and threw a pillow at his flatmate as he jolted himself into a sitting position.  Ron was laughing as he disappeared down the hall; Draco peering down at his attire scoffing.  He was in black skinny jeans and a well pressed white oxford, a gray blazer folded halfway up his forearms.  

Ron was  _ not _ one to throw daggers in regards to fashion.  The git literally wore flannel and old jeans on a daily basis. Not to mention he lacked the knowledge when it came to running a comb through his hair, Draco smirked smugly as he ran his fingers in his own locks, knowing damn well he would have to style it before heading out. He would never leave the house, or confront others, with less than perfect hair, appearances, after all, were everything to  _ The Malfoys. _

As he closed the door behind him to the bathroom, he heard Ron talking on his cell in the living room, speaking loud enough to sound as though he was standing right behind Draco in front of the mirror.  Draco barely had time to grab his gel when Ron yelled down the hall.

“They’re here! Let’s go, mate!”  

Draco heard the door of their flat slam closed as he gave himself one last glance over before exiting the bathroom. His mind had literally ran up those ten minutes in what felt like mere seconds, unaware how his thoughts had rambled on. He scrambled down the hall, pausing when he reached the living room, and ran his checklist over in his head. He took a breath, bracing himself to formally meet Ron and his friends outside. He wasn't nervous, Draco held his own in crowds with confidence, but he was out of his element here, unsure of the company he would keep in a destination unknown to him.

Draco was a planner, a thinker, oftentimes called an  _ over-thinker _ to his inner circle of friends. He patted down his shirt to his pants, making sure he had his phone and keys before exiting the flat to meet Ron and his friends in the parking lot.

“Whoa, whoa,” said a Scottish boy sitting in the backseat of an old, blue Ford, “who invited tha nurse?”

Draco narrowed his eyes, glowering at the goofy expression across the boy’s half hidden face in the backseat of the car as he proudly stared Draco down in a challenging gaze.  Draco rested his features, mentally reminding himself of the importance of first impressions. Before he could reply with a sarcastic response, Ron spoke up.

“ _ I _ did. Now leave future Docfoy alone. He may save your sorry arse one day,” Ron threw Draco a wink as he climbed clumsily in the back seat next to the  _ comedian  _ and another boy Draco didn’t recognize.  

Draco followed suit with Ron, and took the empty seat in the front passenger side of the car.  He sat down uneasily in the old worn seat, closing the heavy and loud door behind him.

“Boys, this is Draco - my flatmate,” Ron slapped his hand over the seat and onto Draco’s shoulder, giving him a light shake as he introduced him to his friends. Draco attempted to smile. “The clown here, is Seamus, this handsome devil is Dean, and that’s Harry behind the wheel there.”

Draco acknowledged the boy driving:  he wore a blue bomber, unzipped over a plain gray tee, and from the angle looked like faded jeans.  His hair was a wrecked mess atop his head, and half of his face was hidden behind thick rimmed glasses.

“Nice to finally meet you, mate,” the mussy haired boy grinned as he steered the car onto the street.

Draco tilted his head back in response, playing it cool.  The car was silent for a time, with the exception of the car making a not so pleasant, or reassuring, sound.  Harry side eyed Draco, who had difficulty shoving the disgusted expression from his face. 

“Don’t worry.  She may be loud, but she’s safe.”

“Harry, that’s fancy for  _ she’s a lump o’ junk and about to break tha fuck down _ .” Seamus, the funny man, chimed in, leaning forward between the two front seats, his elbows resting on the backs.

“Sea, she’s a classic!   _ Not _ a lump of junk!  You’ll hurt her feelings.” Harry rubbed his palm over the dash of the dirty old car, as if that would actually console the machine.

Draco breathed a small laugh, letting it escape past his lips before he could stop himself. Harry smiled sheepishly over at him as Seamus plopped his back against his seat once more.

“Shame you don’t drink, Harry. Then we could take Draco’s ride next time,”  Ron was projecting a smirk that could be seen even through the shadows of the backseat, illuminated every so often as they passed under a streetlight.  Draco’s eyes widened at the idea once the realization of it sunk in.

“Oh, does Dr. D have a nice ride?”  Dean spoke for the first time and Draco wished he hadn’t; enquiring about his car was the  _ last  _ conversation he wanted to discuss.

“The Benz is a  _ beaut _ ,” Ron chimed rather matter of factly, “come to think of it, Draco, I don’t see you driving her much.” Ron’s tone was sharp, and Draco picked up on the taunting pitch.

Draco rarely drove his car for anything other than an escape ride home.  He chose to ignore Ron’s question.  If he ever wanted to experience the average college lifestyle, talking about his seventy thousand pound Mercedes was the last thing he wanted to do.

“So, where are we going anyway?”  Draco’s back shook from Ron’s aggressive grip around his seat on either side, rocking it harshly back and forth.

“Scabbers!” Ron shouted overenthusiastically, “It’s a rat hole, but the booze is cold and the dance floor is hot.”

“Speakin’ of, are we bloody there yet already, mates?  I’ve got some girls who are  _ dying _ fer tickets.” Seamus’s words were beginning to slur more together, Draco noticed the flask in his hand.

“Girls.  _ Riiiight _ ,” Dean said, grabbing the flask, taking a large swig of its contents.  He leaned forward, handing it to Draco with an eager gaze. “And if you say gun show I’ll smack you.”

“Shut it, Dean.  Ya don’t know what yer talkin about! That was one time an-”

Draco once again found himself laughing casually, relaxing and peering over his shoulder at the two boys now arguing amongst themselves.  His eyes raked over Ron momentarily. He was sitting with his palm rested under his chin, his gaze facing out the window, and a large goofy grin spread across his lips.

In the midst of Seamus and Dean’s scuffling, an elbow jabbed Ron in the side, knocking him from whatever musings he was in, and he playfully jabbed Dean in the ribs before scooting up to lean between the two front seats.

“This is going to be one epic night, mates.” Draco could have sworn Ron sent him a wink, but he rolled his eyes, brushing it off casually with a scoff behind the metal flask as he downed more of the amber whiskey.  “Draco, mate, I’m going to need you to relax. When is the last time you’ve gotten laid?”

Draco choked on the liquid, spitting and coughing at the abrupt and rather  _ personal _ question from his flatmate’s mouth.  Twice in one evening, Ron has gotten the better of him, causing a ripple in Draco’s smooth current of conversation. Much to Draco’s growing embarrassment, everyone in the car seemed to lean forward, four pairs of eyes on Draco’s person as he straightened in his seat. Clearing his throat, he settled his features with a stubborn raised chin.

“I don’t see what  _ that  _ has to do with anything, Ron. I’m only here because you practically begged me to join you.”

Before he knew it, Ron was laughing with his head resting on the back of Draco’s seat. “Begged  _ you _ ? Docfoy-”

“Ronald, if you insist on continuing calling me that ridiculous appellation, I will ask you to turn this car around right now.” Draco knew he was being dramatic, but he refused to be continuously mocked by a bunch of mediocre athletes on scholarships. Not when he could be in the presence of his elite friends in a car that wasn’t on the brink of falling apart. No, Draco held his ground, and if that meant being a pompous prat so be it.

“Okay okay, chill, Draco,” Ron insisted, throwing himself to where his back rested on his seat, “it’s all for fun, mate.”

“Some call it flirting,” Seamus’s words were muffled under the clanking vibrations of Harry’s car, but Draco didn’t miss the look Ron shot him.  Whatever the funny man said, he caused Ron’s demeanor to come close to exploding. 

Draco was glad when Harry pulled into a spot in an alley and everyone piled out of the car as he paid the meter.  Ron had been right. Scabbers was in  _ fact  _ a rat house: a small stand alone building of two floors, barred tinted windows and faded bricks with well placed graffiti across the side wall, lined with posters of past and future entertainments.  Draco’s expression morphed to that of disgust, and he peered down at his well pressed attire.

“Told you to change,” Ron said grinning beside him, slapping his back once before walking up to the bar entrance; Dean and Seamus were on his heels. Harry appeared on Draco’s left.

“Well, shall we?”

“I’m a bit out of my element here.” Draco glanced over at the dark haired boy with a look of uncertainty.

“Ah, don’t worry, mate!” Harry said casually, looking over at Ron’s back. “You’re in good hands.”

The two shared a nod and quickened their pace to meet up with the rest of their party, flashing their i.d.’s, and walking inside as a group.  Draco was in for more than he bargained for, soon to discover it takes more than talking yourself out of a situation, or  _ into  _ one in his case, to achieve your goals.

 


	2. Lesson One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special love sent to JEPierre for looking over this chapter with her love. Thanks, boo!

 

Scabbers was stuffy and overcrowded, the air heavy and hot with a haze of smoke layering the rooms. Ron zigzagged through the crowd and lead his friends to the bar for some much needed drinks. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Draco and Harry squeezed in behind a snogging couple; both had awkward expressions across their faces.  Ron breathed a laugh, reaching his hand back behind him and grabbing Draco’s wrist, pulling him towards the bar.  A thankful Harry sidestepped in after Draco.

“Should have warned you about the crowd,” Ron was leaning forward and talking into Draco’s ear, his grip still loosely around his wrist. He followed his blond flatmate’s eyes, and released his hold once the revelation sunk in.

Draco, with a smug expression, slid past him and stepped up to the bar, propping his weight over his elbows as he yelled to the bartender.

“Round of your finest whiskey!”

“Oh good on you, mate! Don’t forget the beers,” Ron chimed in against the bar to Draco’s right, “Oh! And a water for Harry!” His grin must have been as goofy as always, he’d imagined, because Draco rolled his eyes, an accustomed habit while in one another’s presence. “You shouldn’t have!”

Draco passed the shots, and water, as he turned back to face the rest of the party.

“It’s fine. You  _ did  _ say I had to buy you a drink,” Draco’s tone was a sad attempt at playful in Ron’s eyes, but he tipped his glass to the boy anyway, downing three large gulps of his beer before raising his shot glass to his friends.

“Whatter’ we toastin to? All the game I plan on gettin ta-nigh’ I wager?” Seamus stumbled where he stood, his eyes hooded and heavy.

“The only thing you’re getting tonight is sick, Sea,” Dean laughed, throwing his arm around Seamus’s neck. “Don’t worry.  I’ll be there to hold your hair when you puke.”

“How are you pissed already? We literally  _ just _ got here,” Harry’s tone held a tinge of irritation at his friend, who struggled to keep his balance.

“Listen Harry,” Seamus said pointing.  He was facing Harry’s general direction, but looking straight past him with his index finger raised. Dean was laughing beside him, guiding his weight to aim his focus on Harry’s actual face,” Listen. Jus’ because  _ you _ don’ drink, doesn’t mean the rest o’ us have ta suffer sobriety!”

“Aw, leave him be, mate!  You know his nob girlfriend doesn’t  _ allow _ him to have fun without her present,” Ron was teasing, but he didn’t miss the embarrassed hurt in Harry’s green eyes. “How is Pansy by the way?”

Harry released an exaggerated breath.“Pansy is fine. Still not a fan of  _ you _ though.”

“Wait,” Draco’s eyes flicked to Harry’s face, his mouth agape with nostrils flared. “Your girlfriend is Pansy? As in Parkinson, Pansy?”

“I should have known a pompous prat like you would know her,” Ron said bitterly. 

“I’ve known Pansy since start of last term. But she’s never mentioned you,” Draco’s words were aimed directly at Harry, who shrugged in response, avoiding his eyes.

“She’s  _ not _ my girlfriend. And well, she’s very personal.”

Draco’s brow was furrowed and his eyes were as thin as slits. Ron could practically  _ see _ the smoke pouring from his ears from the overdrive his brain was doing to attempt in wrapping his head around the idea of Pansy and Harry being together. It was probably the one thing Ron and Draco would have in common, as Ron often pondered the same question.

“Are we gonna toast er wha?” Seamus shouted, unintentionally killing the tension as he stumbled in Dean’s arms.

The four of them clanked their whiskies together as Harry held up his water bottle, all shouting different inaudible things to toast to before downing the burning amber liquid.  Ron shook his head once, flicking his eyes over Draco as he coughed into his glass.  Dean and Seamus were leaned in on one another, a look of pleased contentment across Dean’s expression as Seamus whispered in his ear. 

“If you’ll excuse us, we have uhm-” Dean shifted his eyes between Ron and Harry, “somewhere to be.” 

And then there were three.

Ron laughed into his beer, having set the shots down and chugging his stout halfway before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Now, the hunt begins.”

“Hunt?” Draco couldn’t hide the unpleasant expression if he tried at the vulgarity of Ron’s simple worded statement.

“Of course! You didn’t think we came here to overpay for drinks without enjoying the idea of a bit of company? Besides, I already told you, we’re gettin’ you laid.” 

Draco quirked a brow in response.“Oh please. I can’t imagine you having any better game than I do. I’ve  _ yet _ to hear you come home with anyone.”

Ron was silent.  He side eyed the blond prat as his mind thought back to the start of year.  He had in  _ fact _ scored goals on the dating field since the quarter started, he just never took them back to his place. 

“See? That’s your first mistake. Lesson one, Draco, you  _ never _ take them back to your place.” Ron’s words were deliberate, causing Draco to turn his full attention to the ginger. 

“I’m sorry, what? That is absurd.” Draco cleared his throat, obviously prepared to argue long windedly to prove Ron wrong, “ _ Clearly _ , you are most comfortable in your own home, so naturally you would bring them ba-”

“Hold that thought!” Ron interrupted, throwing his hand up mere inches from Draco’s face. The blond growled at his palm and swatted the air as Ron walked off out of his reach.

Ron was never much for conversation, seizing moments when they presented themselves. This was one of said moments. He didn’t exactly have anywhere particular to go, but he knew Draco was a talker, so cutting him short of his little ramblings would surely irritate him to no end. Oh how he enjoyed the scrunched expression on Draco’s face before he exploded into a fit of rage.

“So then there were two,” Harry said with a forced smile.  He rocked forward on the balls of his feet and shoved his free hand in his pocket. With raised brows he said, “So! Having fun?”

Draco responded with a simple narrowing of his eyes, causing Harry to roll his lips in beneath his teeth, making a  _ popping _ sound upon releasing them again. The movement alone was enough to make Draco snarl, but the sound - the sound pushed him over.

“Well this has been  _ enlightening _ ,” he shoved Harry slightly to the side as he prudently marched off, following the route of his ginger flatmate.  Harry fell back on his heels, laughing awkwardly at the blond’s display as he retreated into the crowd.

It didn’t take long before Ron found himself face to face with a pair of angry eyes; eyes that held a tinge of darkness in them that glittered and speckled among the woven silvers and greys.  Had the pair  _ not _ belonged to his infuriating and bigot of a flatmate, he would have found them captivating.

“Ah!  _ Dr _ . Malfoy. So good of you to-”

“Call me that  _ infuriating _ name one more time, Weasley!”

Ron all but laughed, knowing it would only throw gas on the flame, before hooking his arm across Draco’s back and tightening his grip so they were tightly shoulder to shoulder; his beer hand moved exaggeratingly out in front of them as if painting a picture.

“Look at all the game you’re missing,  _ Doc _ . I mean seriously. Stop worrying about what  _ I’m _ doing, and get out there!” Ron shoved Draco forward, causing him to trip on his own feet, but he didn’t fall. His body tensed as he wheeled around on Ron.

“What is your deal? I  _ knew _ this was a bad idea; allowing you to convince me to come out with you. Did you only invite me along so you could try to humiliate me? Because I can assure you, Weasel, you do  _ not _ want to get on my bad side.”

“Or what? You going to run and  _ bitch _ to your high and mighty arsehole of a father? Maybe weep into your mum’s arms like a babe fresh from the womb? You look like you’d make the ‘ugly girl’ kind of face when you cry. Admit it. You  _ wanted _ to come out with us tonight.”

The twitch in Draco’s left eye moved, and Ron smiled in triumph in spite of himself. He knew the git would snap at any second.  He had to admit though, Draco  _ was _ very prone to details, not missing the fact he had been the butt of many and all jokes leading up to this moment of the night.

“You’re a fucking wanker, Weasley! You know that? Perhaps a part of me  _ did _ want to come out tonight, but not to be ridiculed in front of your friends.”

“I’m only trying to knock you off your self proclaimed pedestal.”

“Wha-” Draco’s entire body reacted, visibly displaying the urge to thrust his fist forward at Ron, but he inhaled deeply through his nose. “Self proclaimed? You’re fucking delusional!”

“Am I?” Ron sized up Draco by taking a half step forward, closing the space between them altogether and puffed out his chest.  In size alone, Ron outweighed Draco’s slender form. “Admit it, ya prat. You think you’re better than me and my mates.”

Nostrils flared, Draco flexed his jaw and spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t have to  _ think _ anything. I  _ know _ I am better than you lot.” He paused, running his eyes up and down Ron, returning the challenge for dominance. “And it’s  _ not _ because I grew up with money,  _ not _ because I have nicer materialistic things, oh no. It’s because I worked hard to be where I am. I  _ earned _ the right to look down on the wrong sort!”

Before Ron could react, Draco pushed him aside against the wall as he made towards the main door, his phone replacing the beer he once had casually in his hand.  Ron debated following him, but he knew it would be all for nothing - the pompous arse would still aim to get in the last word no matter what direction he aimed to take the conversation.  Harry approached his side as Ron beared witness to Draco exiting the bar.

“That went well,” Harry chimed in playfully.

“Not now, Harry,” Ron sighed and headed to the bar for a refill, Harry in tow. “You can make jokes. You don’t have to live with the git.”

“That’s true. Hopefully he gets home alright though.”

“Are you seriously worried about his well-being after he just insulted you?”

“I didn’t hear it. Even if I had, he has no idea how to get home on his own,” Harry tugged his phone from his pocket and grimaced.

Ron turned back from the bar, ready to continue the argument until he saw the look on his face. He peered at his friend with a curious expression.

“It’s Pansy. She says Draco called her to come pick him up. More like  _ demanded _ really. She’s on her way up.”

“Oh great! Let’s end this night with  _ two _ nobs. Fucking splendid.”

Harry didn’t respond, he just stared with eyes fixated on his phone at Pansy’s text.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about her coming in. She’s mad at me for telling Draco about us.”

Ron visibly rolled his eyes. He still didn’t understand the relationship dynamics with his best mate and that man eating girlfriend of his - or  _ non _ -girlfriend. Harry had been Ron’s best mate since primary school; the two of them had always had the other’s back through it all over those years: ex-girlfriends,  _ current _ girlfriends, Ron’s grand theft auto incident, Harry’s run in with a convict who turned out to be a distant uncle. Books could be written of the crazy adventures - or precarious situations - they had gotten themselves into.

It’s always been them, even through their childish squabbles in their younger years.  They had made a pact to support one another no matter how foolish the other was being. Neither ever struggled holding up their end of said pact until Pansy Parkinson came into the picture and wedged herself between them.  She was downright ruthless when it came to Harry’s feelings in Ron’s eyes, always dictating on when he can, or in most cases cannot, spend his time with his friends. 

“She’ll get over it, mate.  She always does right?” Ron knew he wasn’t being very encouraging, but Harry gave him a weak smile. “Let’s find Sea and Dean, yeah? This place is a bust and I’m getting hungry.”

Harry’s expression turned to that of amusement as he gestured with a nod of his head and a point of his index finger.  When Ron peered behind him, he all but laughed.  They had found their other half of their party, openly snogging on the center of the crowded dance floor. Ron had seen it before so it wasn’t exactly a surprise; his two friends were always inseparable and often bickered as though they had been married for years.  What  _ was _ unexpected, however, was this was the first time they’d made it known in public, usually hiding behind closed doors or in the shadows of an alley.

“This night just gets more and more interesting,” Ron ran his fingers through his hair and downed the rest of his beer; Harry stood beside him grinning awkwardly like a schoolboy watching his first risque video.

“Well, I for one am happy it’s finally out in the open. Should be easier for you now, wouldn’t you say?”

Ron flicked his eyes to Harry, glaring a sharp gaze.  It was true, Ron didn’t show his attraction to other men as much as he would typically like to.  He had grown up with five brothers - all athletes - and a younger sister who could fuck him up just as easily on the soccer field if given the chance, so Ron’s main focus wasn’t exactly on informing his large family he found the same attraction in men as his younger sibling began to express. 

“Shut up, Harry.” Ron blinked back to Seamus and Dean, a smile ghosting his lips. “I can’t wait to give em both hell for this, you know.”  Breathing a laugh, Harry responded with a shake of his head, his eyes glancing down at his vibrating phone once more.  “Pansy again?”

“Yeah, she just pulled up.  She said Draco was still bitching about you and it was giving her a headache.” Harry released a breath, “Which means, I’ll be cutting tonight short to head over to her after she drops Draco off to help, uh-”

“Say no more. Please. My stomach already feels like I could toss up slugs lookin’ at these two. I don’t need to hear about your late night rumbles too, mate.”

“Fair enough. Let’s round up the drooling pups and head out, yeah?”

Ron couldn’t hide the disappointment from his face.  The original point of going out tonight was to unwind and hook up, but his pride got the better of him, or better yet his  _ feelings _ , when he insisted on Draco joining their party. He should have known the stuck up prude would ruin things.

“Oy! Lovebirds!” Ron’s voice drowned beneath the roaring waves of music, but was enough for both Dean and Seamus to turn their heads. He figured they would thank him later for allowing them time to regain air for breathing. “Let’s go!”

Reluctantly, the two pulled apart and made their way over, their index fingers interlocked with the other’s.  The look on Dean’s face was enough to knock the toughest of lads down: genuine smile, a prominent dimple on his left cheek, and sincere, happy eyes glistened under the odd purple hue of lighting from the room. Seamus was grinning ear to ear, wobbling a half a step behind Dean as he was guided off the dance floor.

“Sup, mates? Closin’ time a’ready?” Seamus’s words were damn near inaudible.

“Taking advantage of your mate while he’s drunk, Dean. Tsk tsk.” Ron slapped Dean’s shoulder lightly, causing the boy to cough a laugh.

“It’s probably best we are leaving. Sea here needs to get to bed.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance before sharing a light roll of laughter.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll put him to bed alright,” said Harry leading the pack outside.

As they climbed back into the car, Ron sat up front with Harry, leaving his two friends in the back to continue their snogging. Dean tried to be inconspicuous, but Seamus was too far gone to care, leaving it hard for Dean to deny his partner. 

As Harry turned up the radio to drown out the smacking sound from their friend’s sloppy drunken kisses, Ron leant back in his chair; a faded scent wafted his nose.  _ Draco _ . He tried to ignore it - the woodsy sandalwood and clean aroma still lingering on the fabric of the chair, but he closed his eyes anyway, allowing the scent to invade his nostrils as his mind thought of his impossible flatmate.  Ron quickly realized he was still hungry, but his craving no longer called for food.  


	3. Annoyed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather LARGE thank you to thewaterfalcon for beta'ing this chapter for me!

 

Harry knocked lightly on the white door of Pansy’s flat, bobbing on his heels as he waited for her to open it.  He was visibly tired after working the early shift at the coffee shop - the busiest shift at that - and then having to babysit his friends at the bar. He didn’t mind it too much though, at least he was able to enjoy some time out with the guys. Drinking was never much of his thing anyway, unless you counted the endless cups of coffee he downed throughout the day.

Nerves itched under his flesh as he waited for Pansy, as they often did in her presence. He’d still pinch himself at times to confirm he wasn’t dreaming; uncertain how he snagged one of the most desirable women on campus. When the door swung open, it instantly knocked him from his thoughts, causing his nerves to damn near flare to new heights.

“Ugh!  _ Hey _ ,” Pansy was at the door only long enough for it to open before she plopped down on her couch, a pillow in her lap over her crossed legs. 

“I could tell by your texts your night was as exciting as mine,” he sat down beside her, bending one leg up, his knee resting against hers.

Pansy rested her head on the back of the couch, peering over at Harry with an annoyed expression. She blew her hair from her face, then huffed aloud.

“I love Draco, I do, but oh my  _ god _ he is such a drama queen!” She adjusted herself to nuzzle up closer to Harry, and he shifted to allow her slim form to lean against his chest. “He whined the  _ whole _ way back to his flat. I wish he’d just admit he’s into that horrid ginger and be done with it.”

“Hey, that  _ horrid ginger _ is  **_my_ ** horrid ginger,” Harry gave her a weak smile and he could feel her relax against him. “He may be brash at times, but he’s got an annoyingly sweet heart.”

Pansy’s eyes flicked up to peer at him, a look of disgust spread across her pretty features, “sweet and heart are two words I’d  _ never _ associate with that brute of a friend, Harry. I don’t care how long you’ve known him,” she stood then, her cardigan fell open to expose her camisole underneath as she flailed her arms, “he  _ hates _ me!”

“Ron can’t  _ hate _ anyone. Despite his hard exterior,” Harry outstretched his arm for her to join him again on the couch, his eyes peering through his glasses at her pouty expression.  Pansy groaned and rolled her eyes, taking his hand as he pulled her down onto his lap, kissing her lightly on the curve of her neck. “You know,” he said between soft pecks, “if you both weren’t so stubborn-”

“I am  _ not _ stubborn.”

Clearing his throat, Harry increased the intimacy of his lips on her skin and tightened his grip around her middle, “-you’d both actually be quite fond of one another.”

“He annoys me,” she leaned more into him, “and he calls me a man-eater! Why would you hang with someone like that!?”

Harry paused in his advances and rested his stubbled chin on her shoulder, Pansy allowed her head to relax against his, “For awhile there, it had been just us. I mean, we had his family, sure, but we did everything together. I owe him a lot.” 

Harry couldn’t see her face, but Pansy’s features softened as he spoke, as if a light flicked on and showed her the whole scheme of things fully for the first time.

“He’s still annoying,” she playfully nagged, and he kissed her shoulder, exposed from her fallen cardigan. She responded with a tilt of her head so to crash their lips together. “Come to think of it, you  _ both  _ are rather irritating.” She was smiling against his mouth, and he pulled her down in a rage of soft fingers over her sides and stomach, tickling her most vulnerable spots and causing her to throw her head back in a fit of laughter.

“I can show you just how  _ irritating _ I can be, Ms. Parkinson,” his gaze morphed from that of playful to lust in a matter of seconds, and he leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers. She shifted beneath him, her legs now bent on either side of him as he laid firmly against her. She could feel his lust pressing into her thigh, and it sent a heated jolt to her core.

Pansy lived alone, her flat a small studio of open space. Her bed was located up in a loft, too far for either to bother moving to, as Harry slowly freed her from her cardigan. She pushed back, forcing equal fervor in her kiss as she pulled off his bomber, their lips never separating. The next few moments were a battle for dominance, pushing and pulling until both were fully exposed to the other.  

Pansy’s lips parted, her nails clawing at Harry’s back as she pleaded him with her eyes. Harry teased her, moving his hips so his length was achingly close to her entrance, before moving away again. Pansy licked her lips, and groaned into his mouth. Breathily, Harry pulled a smile.

“You’ve proven your point, Potter,” she managed to say, unable to resist his mouth for long and tugged at him to be nearer. Harry took that as his cue and entered her slowly, groaning as he felt her around his fully erect excitement. 

Their sex was always both wild and sweet, the mesh of a mosh pit colliding into the ballroom during a waltz, entwining Harry’s clumsy swagger with Pansy’s elegance. It was always enjoyable, at least for Harry, when she would make him stay; when she would fall asleep with her head rested peacefully on his chest as he lightly brushed his fingers over her shoulder. 

Harry watched as her movements slowed, her breath becoming more even, showing she had almost completely drifted to sleep. Smiling, he risked moving to kiss her forehead before closing his own eyes. They had somehow made it to the floor during their rumbles, a soft faux fur blanket spread over their naked forms. Harry never wanted to leave his girlfriend - non girlfriend’s, side, despite the tension between her and his best mate.  

He had meant what he said to her, that if given the chance, she and Ron could grow to become friends; both too short visioned to even try to get along, causing a tear in Harry’s life he wasn’t quite sure how to mend. It was difficult when Pansy had suggested the two of them keep their relationship a secret, but he understood as to why it needed to be so.

The Parkinsons came from a long line of politics, and were vastly respected throughout the surrounding areas, even so far as to have fundings linked with the university. Her privacy was little to nonexistent, thus her hesitation for going out to the local bars. Overall, she was an extremely private person, mainly to help keep her precious daddy’s reputation from slander. It wasn’t the grandest of situations, keeping her infatuations with Harry all to herself, but it was to protect not only her, but him as well.

Harry had lost his parents long ago, and though they provided a large lump of inheritance, his status in society was less than on the level her parent’s would prefer, proving him an unfit match to the heiress of the Parkinson fortune. He didn’t mind it overall. It only proved difficult when his friends, more specifically Ron, pushed questions his way. He knew his best friend was looking out for him, often being an open book and hated the secrecy of it all. It would be easier to just tell him everything, Lord only knew Harry wished he could talk about it all to him, unfortunately, his level of respect for Pansy outweighed his frustrations, so he avoided or diverged the topics when her name was dropped in conversations. It wasn’t just his story to tell.

But now, Draco knew. Draco - the boy who  _ kept _ talking, whose family ties intertwined with that of the Parkinsons, themselves. He didn’t blame Pansy for lashing out about that; the risk of her parents swooping her away or the fear of losing her altogether - all because Draco ran his mouth to his parents. 

He didn’t know the blond well, but he  _ did _ know he would be having a conversation with him, and hoped he had made a good enough first impression to maintain on positive speaking terms. Which led him to Ron. He would need to have  _ that _ conversation first and crossed his fingers his friend didn’t poke the dragon too much tonight when he had dropped him off at his place.  That was just what he needed - to play peacemaker with his best mate and the guy he claimed he  _ loathed. _

His eyes felt heavy, but he couldn’t sleep, not yet, not while Pansy looked perfect laying here pressed against him.  He took in moments like these with every breath, and valued the fact he was here at all. When her eyes fluttered up to him, half glossy from sleep, he smiled down at her.

“Should we move to the bed now?”

She didn’t respond with words, only nodded sluggishly as he helped her off the floor. He followed her toward the stairs to the loft. Neither had bothered to dress again, and he admired the way her naked form swayed in front of him. A bit groggy himself, he nearly tripped over her when she changed directions toward the kitchen.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be all bad,” she said opening the door to her fridge and pulling out a water, “you know, if Draco runs his mouth.”

Harry swore he had to be dreaming. 

“What do you mean?” It was a stupid question, and he knew it, but he gave Pansy credit when her face remained neutral.

“ _ Us _ , Harry,” she crossed the open space and stood in front of him, “maybe we’ve hid us long enough.” Her tone was genuine and tired, and he blamed the lack of sleep for her vocaled thoughts.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he tried to hide the heightened excitement from his voice, but knew he was doing a terrible job when he saw her lips pull into a wickedly attractive smirk.

“I know it’s been,” she paused, placing a hand on his bare chest, “difficult for us. And surely not an ideal situation.”

“Situation? Is that what we are, now?”   


“Harry, you know what I mean,” she playfully slapped her palm against his chest. “It would have been so easy to just shove you in front of my parents and feed you to the wolves.”

“Wait-”

“Keep  _ up _ , Harry! Had I told my parents I was dating you, they would have seen it as merely a stunt for attention. Which, in their defence, wouldn’t have been a completely unrealistic assumption,” she shrugged, her pretty features morphing to an almost pained countenance, “but I lo-” she flicked her eyes up to meet his green gaze, “I mean, I  _ may _ have-”

Wrapping his arms around her, he breathed a laugh and gave her a light squeeze as she struggled with her words. She didn’t need to say it, he knew it already. She looked at him in the same longing expression he would send her way when he thought she wasn’t looking, or she would always take note of things, trying to be sneaky as to not draw attention to the fact she would buy his favorite yogurt or coffee creamer, or slip him a message in his wallet when he wasn’t looking to tell him she was thinking about him. 

She protected herself under a layer of sarcasm and a mask of indifference, but Pansy  _ loved _ . And loved hard. She was real, never taking less than what she felt she deserved, and he found that to be completely beguiling about her. But it was when she allowed that layer to dissolve and that mask to fall when he truly couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“I love you too, Pansy Parkinson.”


	4. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a late update for you all - my apologies! This is going unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own and I apologize in advance. I was anxious to get this update out for you all! Also - let it be known that this is my first time writing Dean and Seamus, and I kind of love them ha. The main pairing is still our beloved Draco x Ron - don't worry, I'm getting back to them soon!

 

Seamus woke in a fog. He’d really outdone himself last night and doubted the guys would ever allow him to live it all down. With a huge weight on his brain, he slowly struggled to lift his head, his eyes squinting to adjust to the brightness of the late morning sun peering in annoyingly through the blinds - he really needed to remember to close those before going out.

A strong arm came into his peripheral then; the feeling of warmth from a body shifted closer to his side. Peering over, it took a moment for his eyes to take in the warm umber skin curled up beside him. Seamus smiled in spite of himself, momentarily forgetting the influence of his hangover as he watched Dean sleeping soundly. He hadn’t remembered inviting the man back to his flat, but he sure as hell was glad he was there - the first thing he woke up.

Seamus rolled to his side and faced the man, using the loose fabric of his pillowcase to cover his mouth. He could literally _taste_ his own breath, and didn’t want to ruin this moment as he watched Dean stretch and open his eyes.

“Morning sunshine,” Seamus’ voice was rougher than he expected and slightly muffled behind his pillowcase.

Dean smiled, and Seamus felt himself twitch between his thighs. He’d denied his full affections for years, excusing his thoughts of intimacy as mere curiosity. Last night had been a deal breaker - Seamus no longer being able to deny himself from showering Dean in physical admiration he would gladly shout from the rooftops.

“Good morning, ya drunk bastard.” Dean laid flat on his back, he too squinting his eyes from the invading sun between the blinds. “Damnit, Sea, when are you going to remember to close those?” He held a hand up over his eyes to act as a shield.

“Hey, I’ve only just remembered I’m not wearing pants and you’re worried about the bloody  blinds?” Seamus couldn’t remove the smile from his lips if he wanted to. Sure Dean had shared his bed countless of times in secret, but pieces of the previous night laid as prominently in his mind as Dean laid next to him.

“You didn’t need them last night,” Dean said with a tired grin. “In fact, you proclaimed the lack of needing them in the parking lot before Harry dropped us off.”

Seamus laughed. “Oh shit, yeah? I’m sure that pompous nurse boy had a conniption!” Dean surveyed him for a time, sneaking an arm underneath Sea’s waist as he pulled him closer. “Shit your hands are cold!”

“ _Draco_ wasn’t with us remember? And my hands are only cold because _you_ wiggle in your sleep and shifted to the opposite side of the bed.” Dean’s grin grew and it was all Seamus could do not to warm him up from the inside out right then.

“I almost forgot the prat stormed out of the bar. I knew he couldn’t hang.”

Dean all but rolled his eyes. “Seriously? You’re talking about _him_ not being able to hang when you were drunk off your arse before we even made it inside!” Seamus grinned devilishly as he rested his head on Dean’s chest - a safe place to avoid breathing his morning after booze onto his lover’s face.

“To be fair, we started before the rest o’ them.” Seamus felt Dean’s cold fingers trace shapes on his back, sending a shiver down his spine he knew wasn’t caused by the temperature of his hand.

Dean’s chest rose and fell beneath Seamus’ ear, the calming thrum of his heartbeat keeping a pace he knew he was ready to walk - or soar.

“Sea,” Dean’s voice vibrated as he rose up on his elbows, a reluctant Seamus shifting back to his pillow beside him.

“You don’t like me layin on you like that?” Seamus’ tone was filled with disappointment.

“You know that isn’t true, Sea, but-” Dean’s face hardened and he struggled to find his words. “We just-”

Dean was hushed with a single hand on his cheek, Seamus bored his eyes into him. “You’ve got that look, Dean, and I think I know what you’re tryin ta say.”

With a half smile, Dean rolled his head slightly and quirked his brow. “Do you now?”

Seamus sat up onto his knees, the sheets sliding down and exposing his Scottish flag fully. He didn’t flinch at his blatant nudity, or at his full attention - he noticed Dean didn’t either. “You’re my best mate. But you’re more than that. You’re my bag to my pipe. My-”

With a burst of laughter, Dean shifted and rose upwards, his hands on either side of Seamus’ thighs as he glided his fingertips up to his waist, meeting him face to face in both a playful and loving hold.

“Your _what_?” He laughed lightly, feeling Seamus shiver beneath his touch.

“Ahh, your hands, babe! _Fuck_ they’re cold!” Seamus jolted, causing Dean’s smile to morph into a smirk. “I’m tryin ta be sweet and you’re dicking around!”

“You called me your bag! How is that remotely sweet at all?” Dean sat back on his thighs, his hands never leaving Seamus’ waist. “And we dicked around all night.”

“You think you’re funny don’ cha?” He lunged forward, no longer concerned about his breath or Dean’s cold hands, as he pushed Dean down on his back, his legs falling to either side of Seamus as he lowered himself between them. “I mean it though. I love ya, Dean. Move in with me.”

Dean’s expression was that of shock, both of his brows shot up to the top of his forehead and his mouth hung open. Seamus had gripped both of Dean’s wrists, and was dwelling in his dominant position, knowing Dean would be forced to give him an answer.

“Sea, maybe you should have some coffee. You seem to be more out of it than I thought.” He struggled to loosen from his lover’s hold, his failed force only resulting in Seamus’ grip to tighten. “Ow, Sea!”

“Don't be such a baby,” Seamus lowered himself and began to trace light kisses on Dean's chest. The result caused a quickened rise and fall beneath him as Dean halted his struggle to resist. He paused and peered down into his eyes. “I've never been more serious in my life, Dean. Move in with me.”

The moment of silence that followed made Seamus tense. He was so certain Dean would accept without any thoughts. Regardless of their newfound openness of their relationship, but from everything they had already been through together at the very least.  

They had been friends for the better half of a decade, traveling together during off term summers and on holidays. Inseparable was an understatement when it came to Seamus and Dean. If truth be told, everyone already assumed the two would end up together eventually, even if they didn’t quite piece it together. But the furrowed look of shock and contemplation in Dean’s expression made Seamus doubt even his own intentions, and he rolled off his friend turned lover when the silence lingered longer than his thoughts could bare.

Standing up, Seamus stretched, hiding his expression from Dean, who still laid on his back on the bed. He ran both hands through his already disheveled hair, uncertain if the ruffled locks were the cause of a heavy sleep or rough sex from the night before. Truthfully, he didn’t care. His mind wrapped around Dean and the fact he still hadn’t answered him. He made the small walk to his bathroom and turned on the water to the shower, letting the water warm up as he stood in front of the mirror. He heard Dean move on the other side of the wall, but kept the silence between them by trying to focus on his reflection as he brushed his teeth.

It wasn’t until he stepped into the slightly too heated water of the shower when he heard Dean speak. His pride feeling as though it was being trampled over like the water coming down in streams.

“You’re angry.” Dean’s frame could be seen from the opposite side of the thin curtain, his silhouette leaned against the frame of the door. Seamus clenched his jaw.

“I’m not _angry_ , Dean. I’m just bloody well confused, yeah?”

“I thought you said you’d never been more certain in your life?” Seamus didn’t need to see the details of Dean’s face to know he was smirking. Seamus popped his head around the curtain, the foamed shampoo running down to his cheeks.

“I am! I mean, well I was. Until you mucked it all up and made it all weird. Thanks for that by the way, _love_.” Seamus whipped his head back into the shower, running his head under the water.

“Come on, Sea, you just-”

“Nope! Can’t hear ya out there, Dean! I’m showerin. The water is too loud in here.” Seamus interrupted. He meant what he told him - he wasn’t angry. He was just slightly embarrassed with the turn of events of his morning. He shouldn’t have been so embarrassed, not really. He didn’t even plan on Dean being in his flat last night, let alone this morning, so it wasn’t like he’d been planning to ask him on this day _particularly_. But the sting came when he realized just how long he _had_ intended on asking him. The result was _not_ what he wanted to hear - or _not_ hear in this case.

He was lost in his own thoughts, not realizing the bleary frame of Dean shifting on the other side of the saturated shower curtain. Not until the move of the stiff plastic slid open to reveal him stepping into the shower altogether. His cloudy mind, which he blamed on the aftermath of the alcohol the night before, didn't fully register the man he loved was standing behind him, small remnants of the water speckling parts of his chest, his stomach, and his _erection_.

“Oh so _now_ you’re excited to talk to me?” Seamus said cheekily, turning and facing Dean with a loofah in his hand.

“I’m always _excited_ when you’re around, Sea-” he paused mid advance, his eyes focused on the contents in Seamus’ grasp. “A loofah? Seriously? And you make fun of nurse boy.”

“Can we _not_ talk about him while we’re naked together in the shower?” Seamus snarled, tossing the loofah at Dean’s chest. “And it’s a Batman loofah. You can’t get much manlier than that, can ya?”

Dean rolled his eyes, adding Seamus’ ‘manly’ body wash to the black and yellow loofah now resting in his hand. “If you say so, Sea. And to answer your question-”

“It wasn’t a question, Dean.” Seamus gripped Dean’s forearms lightly, tugging him closer, his expression morphing into something more serious. “Home is not just a place. Home is a feeling. My feelings for _you_ feels like home. I want ya here, Dean. With me.”

Dean’s features softened, his lips curling upward and causing Seamus to twitch again between his thighs. He was lost in that look, and wanted to lose himself time and again every morning - together. Dean leaned forward, capturing Seamus’ lips and backing him against the shower wall.

“Yes, Sea. I want that too.”

At his words, everything Seamus had thrusted to the surface, exploding through the fervor of his lips and the movements of his hands as he began stroking Dean’s length. The water had been heated before, but was cold in comparison as Seamus and Dean fucked under the streams, the tile wall leaving fogged imprints of Dean’s hands as he slid his palms down with every thrust of Seamus’ hips. When they came together, both panting as the water rained down over their still sensitive flesh, Seamus cupped Dean’s face, swallowing the puffs of Dean’s tired breath as he kissed his lover’s lips.

“Welcome home, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> More chapters to come! Hoping for bi-weekly updates! Just kind of going where the flow takes me!


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